


Another Kind of Desperate Measures

by G_J_Smith



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: (a lovely word in my opinion), Consentacles, Coping Mechanisms, F/F, I am incredibly sorry for this but also not sorry at all, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Necessarily Implied Infidelity, Oral Sex, Other, Porn with Feelings, Pre-Relationship, Touch-Starved, Vaginal Fingering, consensual tentacle sex, crewmates with benefits, inappropriate use of workplace plant monster, it's 2020 and time we admit to ourselves that Minkowski Fucks, just 15k words of Minkowski going "fuck it" bc she's kind of dealing with A Lot Right Now, set between Pan-Pan and Securite, zero gravity cunnilingus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:15:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22652365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/G_J_Smith/pseuds/G_J_Smith
Summary: " Yup. Okay. Sure. She was gonna fuck the plant monster. That was a thing she was going to do, because that was just where her life was at the moment. And to be fair, there were... a lot of things she'd done on this mission that she'd probably have been ashamed to admit to before. And no matter how many times she and the plant monster had tried to kill each other before this, right now, they were both just trying to survive on the same crumbling station, however they found themselves having to do it."Alternatively: You know things are looking bleak when even the plant monster is concerned about you. Minkowski does what she can to stay sane, up to and including the crazy things - and also Captain Lovelace.
Relationships: Isabel Lovelace/Renée Minkowski, Renée Minkowski/Specimen 34, Renée Minkowski/Specimen 34/Isabel Lovelace
Comments: 10
Kudos: 43





	Another Kind of Desperate Measures

**Author's Note:**

> Alternative title: Minkowski's Accidental Space Creature Kink.
> 
> Or: Some people?? Fuck the plant monster?? TO COPE?? 
> 
> Perhaps considering my other recently posted piece, a more appropriate tag would've been, "Feelings: Now with porn!"
> 
> Okay, so, one: no, I don't know what possessed me to write this. Two: no, I don't know how it ended up nearly triple the length of Galactic Interaction. Three: no, I don't know what in god's name possessed me to _post_ it, and four: yes, there's going to be a refractory period before I have the courage to make eye contact with anyone who's read this ever again. 
> 
> Five, soooooooo........ as you can maybe kinda tell, Minkowski and Lovelace woke up some kind of raging repressed sapphic side of me by finally giving it a compelling outlet, but it's been a long time since I've actually written smut of any kind, and it's my first go at writing it where there are neither dudes nor penises involved (yes, I know, this tear I'm on is also kind of an act of penance for that alone). And I'm apparently still mentally twelve because there's a lot of words going on here I think are hilarious, like "nipple" or "consentacles". And also no, I can't find a ton of synonyms for the anatomy involved that don't either make me laugh or feel kinda gross. So. Go easy on me.

Day 18: still no response to their SOS.

Minkowski had actually taken her chances sending the distress call again over that first week. Repeated calls on the pulse beacon relay felt like a risk, just because of who they knew would be on the other end of the line. But whether or not she had managed to annoy Cutter out of sending someone, it all seemed to be of equally little use. Either their comms equipment was too damaged to establish stable two-way contact, or no one was picking up the call.

And all the while, the cracks kept getting deeper. And it'd take at least two months to get to the _Hephaestus_ no matter what. Their window was running short, and Minkowski could hear ticking clocks in every labored creak and groan from her dying station.

 _"There's every chance the signal_ did _actually go through,"_ Hera had said during a day spent trying to repair a presumed fault in the communications array, to a complete lack of celebration. If they’d been able to confirm they were well and truly dead, at least Minkowski might no longer feel she was walking on a tightrope made of razor wire. Sure, she might be able to pull her surviving crew through to the other side of this - that was a technically possible outcome - but it'd be far more likely that Cutter would run out the clock to punish them for holding out on him, or whoever he sent would dispose of them on sight, or something else would happen, something nobody would see coming, before a rescue crew of any description could arrive-

"...but this isn't a system you're specialized in," Lovelace had said, refusing to let the unsaid sneak by without being addressed, while still managing to skirt around what they were all thinking; it’d be far easier to determine their exact position up Shit Creek (sans paddles) if the person who actually knew his way around the equipment was here.

There had been no blame or resentment in the exchange, not like before the deep breeze. Just the air of regret underpinning grim determination, which was the general mood of the _Hephaestus_ these days. With no word on when or if help would arrive, they’d had no other choice: keep the station in the air until either the ship or the crew gave out.

So Minkowski kept planning repairs with Hera, the two of them juggling the interlocking systems of the _Hephaestus_ to find what they could keep operational, what they could afford to leave for another day, and what was most likely to break and kill them first. Right now, that honor went to the stress fractures in the outer rim's hydraulics.

She and Lovelace surveyed the space beyond the wall panels with critical eyes. Or, maybe Lovelace was also pretending to have a critical eye, since the solution was already obvious; except for the solar panels attached to the exterior of this section, there was no reason to not seal it off and leave it to the elements. The outer rim had always been redundant with as few people as they had anyway, and in theory, the decreased space would mean less energy would be necessary to keep the electrical grid functional, so the loss from those solar panels should be compensated for. But they had to be sure. They'd have to double-check so that Hera could check, check and triple check her calculations, and then Minkowski would still be up half the night casting one more eye over them where no one could see.

"It looks like the casing on this deck is shot," Lovelace concluded, after several moments without comment from the Commander. Minkowski blinked, realizing she'd been staring at the fracture - hairline thin, but longer than her arm and threatening to creep deeper into the module - without exactly seeing it. "What do you two think, shut it down?"

"We were always going to need to do that," Minkowski said, flat with resignation. When nothing happened, and she realized Lovelace was staring at her instead of taking her usual leap into action, she turned to give the Captain a look. "...what?"

"...Nothing." Lovelace went back to peering into the Hephaestus's mechanical guts. "Hera, how about you?"

_"...well, there's some mechanical adjustments that'd need to be made to compensate for giving up this part of the station, not to mention there's the small issue of the patch job on one of the oxygen mains after one of our early... misadventures with the pressure system."_

"Oh?" Lovelace said. Minkowski followed her gaze to a pipe that stuck out from the rest, a clear recent addition that hadn't been made to fit with the rest of the puzzle. "Oh. Boy. What happened there?"

_"Oh, just a minor busted pressure valve on the aft deck right around the second month mark... everybody was still getting used to this place, and some of the repairs between your missions were something of a rush job, and Eiffel wasn't... always the most on top of his daily assignments..."_

Hera's explanation trailed off, the way they all tended to when someone mentioned him. Lovelace appeared to have been considering a retort to her evasiveness, but instead, Eiffel’s name had her attention turning back towards Minkowski, like she was watching for a reaction that wasn’t going to come. It was getting easier to think of him in the past tense, no matter how much Minkowski wished it weren’t so.

So, Lovelace took it upon herself to conclude their moment of silence and get back to business. "Okay, so if you could patch up the aft deck pressure system and reroute these O2 lines, then we should be able to close off this section,” she said. “But we're going to need to find workarounds or a way to keep these operating... any suggestions, you two?"

_"Give me a moment, Captain, there's a loooot of duct tape in this wing. Can't be too careful."_

Lovelace gave Hera her moment, taking the opportunity to nudge Minkowski back to the present again. "Hey. Seriously, you've been spacing out like that for almost a week now. There isn't some other impending doom you're trying to spare us from worrying about, is there?” she asked in a low voice.

Minkowski shook her head, as if her brain were an Etch-a-Sketch and she was trying to clear it of her attempts to solve the brutal equation they were trapped in. “God, no. I'm _fine_ , Captain. Just..."

“Tired” was the first word that came to mind, all the way down to her bones. Tired of the heavy gray despair spreading, like a mold, around the frantic fluttering in her chest that wouldn't let her stop turning over _everything_ in her mind, again and again. Because no matter how doomed they were, she had to keep a hold of it all, _just in case_ there was ever... _something_ , something she had missed. She could _feel_ it there but could never think through what it might’ve been, even on days where she got something like an okay night’s sleep.

…Crap, now she'd zoned out again. "Okay, no, 'fine' is an overstatement," Minkowski hastily amended herself, "but I don't think you could call any of us 'fine' by any reasonable stretch, so let's just focus on staying one step ahead of the next disaster while we can, okay?"

"I'm focused, it's _you_ that keeps getting the thousand-yard stare," Lovelace said.

A weighty silence from the speakers above was Hera's signal that, though she hated to admit it, Lovelace had a point. Minkowski could feel their eyes on her, cautious and wondering.

"I'm dealing with it, okay?" she snapped. "Quit staring at me like I'm about to have a breakdown and save that energy for worrying about the-"

She stopped as a new sound caught her attention at the edges of her hearing. "...Captain, do you hear that?"

"Huh? Hear wh-"

"Shhh!"

Lovelace went quiet, leaving Minkowski listening intently until the unexpected noise resolved into the familiar slithering of long vines on metal, drifting by through the air vents and coming to rest somewhere by the grate near the ceiling behind them.

"...never mind," Minkowski sighed, betraying a bit of relief, “just the plant monster.”

Lovelace raised an eyebrow at her, appearing somewhat skeptical that a mind-altering, spike-shooting Dr. Hilbert Original should ever be cause for relief. But Minkowski had lived with it for a lot longer than she had. And the Captain apparently trusted her enough, at least, that she'd never taken it upon herself to do anything about it. So they had that.

At least they had that...

Minkowski pushed off the floor and drifted over to peer into the vent, spying a cluster of green trailing away around a corner. It crept back when it seemed to notice her presence, but not like it was retreating. Instead, it shuffled back, then crept forward again, the way you'd play with a cat and a piece of yarn.

But then Minkowski felt a hand on her shoulder as Lovelace also came to investigate, hanging onto her as she also peered into the narrow metal tunnel. The tentacle retreated beyond their view and didn't return.

As they returned to their work, spending the bulk of the day improvising new pathways for the O2 line and reinforcing the faultiest of the pressure valves, Minkowski could hear the scraping in the duct on the peripheral of her senses, a new instrument in the station’s mechanical orchestra of background noise. It never came close, but it was never exactly far away from her, either. Lovelace heard it too; she’d shoot wary glances at the vents ever so often, but the plant monster never made any further moves. It would just sit quietly until they moved into a different section, and heard it scraping along after them.

 _"It's usually never in that wing,"_ Hera remarked later that evening, when the return of the slithering noise had Minkowski looking at the vents on her way to the bridge. It had been doing this for a few days now, for god-only-knew-what reason. Sure, you heard it moving around in the walls sometimes, collecting more detritus for its little nest, but it never behaved this deliberately towards any of the crew…

But right now, its pattern was consistent. It'd move a few meters away from her, wait for her to catch up, and then bolt further down whatever path it was following until the vent system diverged from the corridors. And it was definitely following her specifically, like it was trying to get her attention or something.

This theory was bolstered when a little green vine poked through the nearest grate and flicked itself at her, in an approximation of a “come here” gesture.

 _"...does it... want something from you?"_ Hera ventured, giving voice to Minkowski’s own thoughts.

"I don’t know, Hera," Minkowski murmured, floating over to inspect the grate which, unsurprisingly, had the vine whipping back out of sight, though that… wasn’t entirely the truth. There had been something, just some incredibly minor thing, that lined up with the start of the plant monster’s pursuit. Just a small… emotional breakdown a few days back, when she’d been alone in her room in the small hours of the morning. When even Hera wasn’t watching her (must’ve been on her nightly debugging cycle), and the knowledge that she was _alone_ for even a little while made it feel like the waves were finally closing in over her head.

It hadn’t even been about the mess she was trying to lead them out of, was the thing. It wasn’t about Eiffel, or their SOS getting no response, or the fact that after _everything,_ they all might still end up dying slow and withering deaths die up here, light-years away from the people that loved them – no, that hadn’t been what set her off. It was just… some personal thing, something that shouldn’t even matter in the face of all of that…

Maybe something was wrong with the water supply and the plant monster had been getting a head start on the issue by looking into human tears as a substitute. That’d be just their luck, wouldn’t it?

"What?" Minkowski asked the metal barrier, bolstered by indignation at the idea, "do you want me to follow you? Is that it?"

There was a rustling noise from within the vent, along with a noise from deeper in that sounded just a bit too guttural to just be moving plant matter. She blinked in surprise, not really having expected an answer. Sure enough, when she pried away the grate and stuck her head into the passageway, off the plant monster went.

"…Hera, can you tell where it's going?"

Hera's vocal program made a little tongue-clicking noise of thought. _"Hmm... well, it seems to be trying to lead you towards a particular area in one of the unused wings, the one you marked off as its lair? The environment's stable enough for a lot of organic material... but it's been awhile since anyone's been in there for maintenance, so my sensors are offline. The lair itself is basically a communications dead zone."_

"Well... what's the worst it can do, possess me?" Minkowski said wryly. Oh, how she longed for the good old days, when Plant Hilbert was the worst of their problems…

But... Hera was right to be worried. If anything happened to her, after losing Eiffel…

"...it's been persistent," Minkowski pointed out. "I should probably see what it wants, just in case it's trying to, say, bring a serious problem to our attention. It still needs a breathable atmosphere just as much as we do."

_"If you're sure about this."_

"Better me than someone else, what with our little 'understanding.' …Besides, it needs our truce now more than ever, the station'll only fall apart faster if it eats one of us," she added under her breath.

Hera made a noise to signal she would be hanging on to those reservations of hers. Minkowski sighed, putting the grate back in place and mentally re-planning her route. "I know this thing, Hera. It doesn't have a reason to hurt me. But I'll still go in prepared, and if I'm out of contact for longer than thirty minutes, you can send someone in after me."

 _"Yes, sir,"_ Hera said, unhappily. 

* * *

Never let it be said that Renée Minkowski went into anything less than prepared. Yes, the night vision goggles and the spare O2 tank and _especially_ the harpoon were all more a show for Hera's sake than anything, but as she approached the lair and found that the plant monster's interior decorating had spilled out of the vents and into the corridors themselves, it did help ease her nerves.

The sprawl had spread prolifically in the months since she'd last been in this part of the station. It grew thicker now, layers of plants covering the walls and weaving in and out of panels, with floating clusters of bioluminescent moss branching lazily into the air in the lack of gravity, like alien grape clusters. Minkowski spotted varieties of vines she'd done battle with during the weeks before Lovelace had reappeared, as well as several new ones that must've evolved in the meantime. Most of it was recently dead - killed off when the station had frozen over, she guessed - but it was quickly being overtaken by new growth, forming a forest-like carpet of foliage.

Still, double-checking she was firmly outside of Hera's sense horizon, Minkowski carefully set her gear down before entering the heart of the _Hephaestus_ 's mutant jungle. Call it a show of good faith; after all, the plant monster had done less damage to both the _Hephaestus_ and Minkowski herself than most of the other humans on-board - when it was allowed to mind its own business, at least (she still had scars from some of those spikes it could shoot).

In the very heart of the lair was the sun lamp. It too had been added onto, with more spare bulbs and wires spliced into its circuity until it became a column of glowing light, like some kind of otherworldly streetlight. Broad leaves stood around it in a ring, like solar panels, soaking up the substitute daylight. As she surveyed the room, a rustle off to the side of the lamp caught Minkowski's attention. She spun around to see the largest, densest cluster of vegetation unwind, the plant monster unwrapping its vine-y limbs from around its main body.

It waved one at her.

"...hi," Minkowski said, awkwardly waving back. The eyeball at the center of the mass slowly blinked at her in response. "...so... here I am. What do you want?"

She gave the room another cursory scan. Nothing appeared to be amiss, but a variety of structural compromises could be hiding under the dead leaves and the clusters of glowing moss and the many, many vines weaving their way around the room. It was the wildest place Minkowski had seen since leaving Earth. Without the underlying structure of their greenhouse, it was almost overwhelming. Who knew what she could be overlooking?

Minkowski flinched as her focus was broken by something suddenly brushing against her head with clear intent. Looking up as she drifted backwards, she saw a vine-y tentacle arcing down from the ceiling near her head.

She reflexively swatted it away with an "oh no you don't," thinking of Hilbert's stint as the Blessed Whatever's mouthpiece, "you got something to say to me, you- I don't know, you can probably figure out Morse code, but you're not messing around with my head!"

But the tentacle, apparently only so deterred, started coming for her again. Minkowski leaned back, grabbing it and holding it at bay. "The hell did I just tell you?" she demanded.

She regretted that choice a moment later when the vine forced itself through her grip, feeling horribly like - and horribly unlike - a muscle tensing and flexing in her hand. It wrapped itself around her palm and began snaking further down her wrist when she released her grip to try and shake it off, only for it to pull her arm taut away from her. In the middle of the struggle, Minkowski also realized, another vine had started wrapping itself around her other hand.

Okay, this might be bad.

Caught by both arms, Minkowski uttered a cry of alarm and kicked out to try and escape. Alarm flared into outright panic when both her ankles got caught, the plant monster's grip strong enough that her attempts to break free might as well have been a kitten swatting at it. Of course. It should've been obvious - she was in a room full of prehensile, rope-like appendages, all extensions of a creature she had tried _very hard_ to kill on more than one occasion. But this couldn't be happening, _this was not happening_ , she of all people couldn't be stupid enough to walk right into a trap, _she wasn't supposed to die this way-_

Minkowski squirmed helplessly in the plant monster's grip, more vines winding around her to try and stifle her thrashing. She was far enough out of range that calling for help would be a waste of breath. But the vines' hold was only firm, not crushing, so maybe, just maybe, she could get far enough to grab for her gear-  
  
She froze as she felt one of the vine-y appendages brush against her hair again. As her gaze fixed on it, it came at her again, slowly, and she tensed, waiting for it to pounce, prepared to fight as hard as she had to keep it from doing... whatever it was it was planning on doing.  
  
But it didn't pounce.

Instead, the plant monster was reaching out towards her the way you might with a spooked animal. The gesture was about as slow and telegraphed as a prehensile plant stalk could get, carefully approaching until it was close enough to flick along her forehead, sweeping stray hair away from her face.

It paused, waiting for her reaction, and then did it again. This time, the movement was slower and more thorough, like someone running fingers through her hair.

The breath Minkowski had been holding turned into shaky laughter on the way out. So that was how bad things had gotten; the plant monster, an escaped experiment made by their resident mad scientist, which she'd gone to the edge of her sanity trying to hunt down not even six months ago, was _petting_ her the way a worried friend might.  
  
The noise made the tentacle pause again, and immediately Minkowski found herself missing the sensation. The vines binding her relaxed until they were more holding than restraining, keeping her from drifting into any of the walls or the sun lamp. The tentacle petting her quirked itself into a curious pose, still waiting for a signal from her.

"...Yeah... yeah, I'm alright," Minkowski sighed, fixing the plant monster's eye with a reproachful look. It made an odd trilling-chuffing sound that made its limbs shiver pleasantly, the sensation resonating through to her limbs. It... sounded apologetic enough. The one tentacle flicked the floating ends of her hair, and Minkowski found herself relaxing and inclining her head slightly to encourage it to continue - even though she kept a wary eye on it, just in case it made any sudden moves to invade her brain.

"I mean, none of us are in great shape, but we're still holding together, I guess," Minkowski went on, half to herself and half to the giant eyeball in the mass of plant matter. She looked up to address it directly, goosebumps rising as the vine petting her brushed the back of her neck. "If anything, I'm surprised you made it through the deep freeze a few weeks ago."  
  
A noise she could only interpret as “noncommittal” rumbled through the foliage, and a few vines even seemed to shrug. Minkowski laughed again, unraveling from the years of nonstop anxiety and stress this godforsaken tin can had inflicted on her. It shouldn't have been this easy, that the _plant monster_ of all things could undo her, but the gentle, curious way the tendril touched her had woken up some kind of craving in her very skin. Or, maybe it'd just made the constant ache impossible to ignore. Her nerve endings were practically vibrating after so long without contact.

It wasn't unexpected; you heard about the touch starvation people experienced in these kinds of isolated environments. Goddard Futuristics' mission training had been very mum on the subject, but you heard about the research, the anecdotal stories about the odd ways astronauts adapted, or the everyday things they overreacted to after returning home. And maybe it was the thought _home_ that brought on a sudden, overwhelming swell in her chest, combined with the pleasant tingling sensation spreading down her shoulders, that had Minkowski abruptly holding back tears. Again. For the same _ridiculous_ reason that'd probably gotten the plant monster following her around in the first place, now that she thought about it. It was small, so small in the face of what they were up against, but try as she might to ignore it, it'd been the thing that had gotten to her. Made her feel, just for a little while, like she was finally drowning.  
  
"...you know, it's almost kind of funny, because you know what happened a few days before that?" she chortled again, now soft and shaky. "I didn't realize until I asked Hera about the date on Earth – I thought that might be part of why we hadn't gotten a response to our SOS, I dunno… and then I just... remembered, a few days after that, 'oh, my fifth wedding anniversary was a few days before we almost froze to death.'"  
  
The laughter bubbling out of her was a substitute for sobbing. It must've been a concerning enough noise that the plant monster hesitated, its tendrils petting her more carefully after Minkowski had gotten the noise out of her system and it felt it was safe to resume.

She absently brushed the lens of tears away on her sleeve, mumbling, "I didn't even really realize it at first, guess I was more upset about it then I thought... I didn't even think about telling any of the others, not when there's so much else happening. I mean, what does it matter compared to all of this? And it's not like you know what any of that even means..."

Minkowski forced herself to take a deep breath, relax and not risk scaring it off by completely dissolving into a blubbering mess. Hell, if this kept her from completely falling apart for just a little while longer, she'd take it.

From the way she was being poked and prodded at, Minkowski got the distinct impression that the plant monster was, in fact, making an attempt to physically reassure her, and now it was mildly curious about just how she reacted when touched. Maybe looking for more places that'd be as soothing as petting her hair had been - and it wasn't like that wasn't working. Sort of like being held, even if it was by something totally alien, its appendages carding through her hair and letting her take her mind off her worries for a little while, without even having to worry about where she was floating.

Yeah… Minkowski could see herself putting up with this for just a little while longer. She probably needed it, and after all - it wasn’t like anyone else ever needed to know.

That first tentacle ran itself down the back of her neck and further along her spine, bringing on another wave of goosebumps. It was… Oddly textured, kind of like a round barrel hairbrush if you sanded all the bristles down to little nubs. Not bad, once you got used to it, but as it was, even through the fabric of her uniform jumpsuit, its touch left a tingling trail through her nerves that had Minkowski shuddering almost violently in the plant monster's grip. Another touch, this one on her bare skin, almost startling with how intense it was – one of the vines wrapped around her wrist was peeking curiously under her sleeve.

Minkowski absently muttered, "here, let me--" before prying her arms away long enough to shed the jumpsuit from her upper body. She figured it was better than letting the plant monster get tangled up in her clothing, drawing in a sharp breath and letting herself drifting on the waves of sensation as the vines wrapped themselves around her limbs again.

She came back to herself when the curious plant wound its way up to her shoulder, threatening to creep under the tank top she wore as an undershirt. She flinched and started wriggling a little, partly because the vine-y tendrils were sliding past that one part of her underarm and it _tickled_ , but that just prompted the plant monster to tighten its hold on her once more, one vine still petting her hair to reassure her as it kept investigating.

Half of Minkowski’s mind was gearing up to voice a complaint before a tendril brushed up against one of her breasts. One drawback to letting herself fall into the habit of going bra-less: without the extra layer of her uniform shielding her against the station's pervasive chill, her nipples were already hard enough to show through the fabric. And even though her body was reacting to the cold, Minkowski could feel heat rising to her face, even before the rough texture of the vine rolled over one of those sensitive nubs and sent an electric shock through her skin, settling in a pool of warmth in her lower belly. Her attempt at an indignant remark turned into a yelp, and she reflexively squirmed in the plant monster’s grip again, her body both arching into the touch and cringing away from the unexpected intensity of it. The vines held on, squeezing her limbs and wrapping themselves around her torso to keep her from thrashing around again.

As Minkowski collected herself, she noticed that one vine had wound itself around her leg underneath the fabric of her flight suit, high enough that the tip of it was brushing the back of her knee. Her arms had been tangled up and pulled over her head, and there were now multiple vines crisscrossing her torso to hold her in place, riding up her undershirt and leaving her abdomen exposed. This time, when she tried to move again, she was met more resistance, the vines all going still except for the one preoccupied with petting her hair. A warm low rumble rolled through the lair, reminding Minkowski of a cat's purr crossed with something like a cricket chirp, rolled through the lair, making a few of the vines thrum faintly from the vibration.

Another pleasant little shiver rolled up the base of her spine. As her heartbeat slowed from "panicked" to somewhere around "reasonable anticipation", so did any thoughts about breaking free. The feeling of helplessness, the ridges of the tendrils restraining her creeping over her exposed flesh and under her shirt, all with the distinct sense she wasn’t in any _actual_ danger… it all made for a... surprisingly unobjectionable sensation. A sensation that was rapidly approaching the threshold of full arousal.

The biggest thing holding her back was impression that really, she ought to have the grace to be embarrassed about all of this, or _at least_ sound a little more reluctant when she relaxed as much as her shuddering nerves would let her and muttered, "it's fine, really, go on." And Minkowski wouldn’t deny for a second that was a conscious, level-headed decision to encourage this latest extreme of weird space debauchery further, but...

The tendrils trailed across her skin, the ridges pressed firmly into her breasts, her arms, all the way up to her thighs now, their deliberate progress building up a familiar heated tension. Minkowski wasn’t about waste time lying to herself. At this point, she’d have just finished herself off if she'd had a hand free. Her right arm shifted at the thought and the fibrous tentacles holding her in place held her fast. She was stuck, couldn’t do anything but ride the growing swells of arousal, and it was the most welcome distraction from the mess she’d found herself in that she’d had in _months._

The tendril petting her paused and brushed a line, from the bridge of her nose down her face, all the way to her exposed belly. The light, ticklish sensation and the throbbing building between her legs made Minkowski draw her knees together, whimpering. There was another vine about to dip below the open zipper of her flight suit, the ones curled around her legs creeping up higher, and higher...

Yup. Okay. Sure. She was gonna fuck the plant monster. That was a thing she was going to do, because that was just where her life was at the moment. And to be fair, there were... a _lot_ of things she'd done on this mission that she'd probably have been ashamed to admit to before. And no matter how many times she and the plant monster had tried to kill each other before this, right now, they were both just trying to survive on the same crumbling station, however they found themselves having to do it.

You survived how you could, and - oh, goddamnit all - today, Minkowski was just trying something a little different. Call it a pressure release - she could squirm and writhe as much as she wanted, but for once, she didn't actually have to do anything. Just sit back and -

 _"Oh!"_ The sound escaped her when a vine traced upwards past the tendon joining her thigh to her hip. The one wound around her other leg tugged gently, like it was trying to get her attention.

She bit her lip, looking at the tendril poised to slide beneath her underwear, and then away at the far wall as she relaxed and let her legs fall open. "Well... go on then."

Her stomach muscles fluttered as the vine dipped lower, the tip sliding between her lower lips and over her clit. Minkowski finally let out a noise above a gasp when the ridges of it dragged over her sensitive core - she was wet already, making the movement slicker than the vines still wrapped around to her breasts. She pressed her hips into the contact, her face heating up as she uttered a helpless little moan, the intensified pressure hitting her like a jolt to the base of her spine.

The vine shifted as it explored her warm folds, the tip playing with her swollen inner lips, the ridges along it rolling her clit around in the process - one ridge pressed right into the little bundle of nerves, making her hips buck as she openly cried out. Another shudder rattled through her when the tentacle's curious investigation reached the twitching muscles of her entrance, leaving her thighs quivering.

"Yes, yes, yes-" Minkowski gasped, before drawing in a breath, unsuccessfully trying to turn another loud moan into a muffled whimper while the tendrils wound around her thighs tightened to keep her quivering from closing herself off. The tentacle between her legs was just thick enough to spread her out as it slid inside, each ridge catching just long enough to tease her dripping entrance, her inner walls fluttering around the curious intruder as it wriggled and writhed to get deeper inside of her. The movement pressed against her g-spot, igniting a spark inside her that put her right up at the edge-

 _"...mmander? Minkowski, if you're somewhere in this mess, help me out here-"  
_  
Funny, how fast 30 minutes could go by when you were actually enjoying yourself.

"Ch--Change of plans!!" Minkowski gasped when she registered the voice, freezing in the plant monster's grip before thrashing around again to get free, becoming abruptly aware of just how _loud_ she'd let her cries of passion become.

"Get your feelers out of my pants, you need to let go _right_ now before Captain Lovelace-- no, you cut that out, give me back my arm- I mean it right now, this is seri- _ack--!!_ "

The mad scramble that ensued reminded her, absurdly, of the rare (and yet, more common than she would ever own up to) misadventures she'd managed to work up the nerve for in her college years. It took a few loud stage whispers and some pointed tugging for the plant monster to get the picture that no, this time, Minkowski was serious about struggling loose. Even then seemed determined to keep their little game going, allowing her to get an arm or leg free before playfully ensnaring her again.

"...Minkowski?" Lovelace called again, her voice coming closer and becoming more cautious as she tracked her to the epicenter of the mutant foliage. "You, uh... you good?"

To summarize the absurd state Lovelace found her in: no, Minkowski did not manage to collect herself into a presentable, non-suspicious state by the time the captain came rustling through their little space jungle. And while you could hardly say Minkowski been caught _in flagrante delicto_ , once you added up how flushed and out of breath she was, and the several vines still reaching under her disheveled tank-top, and that she'd only gotten one arm mostly untangled... well, it wasn't exactly hard to solve for the missing number.

Minkowski did her best to look like her current predicament was a minor annoyance, thanking her lucky stars she'd at least managed to get the loose upper half of her jumpsuit tied around her waist (even if it did look like it'd been done in a hurry) and that there weren't any vines still snaking underneath it. Though - she followed Lovelace's eyes to the vine still stubbornly wrapped around her ankle - that one was still reaching _pretty damn far_ up her leg, even if Lovelace couldn’t see it. Hopefully, if the plant monster's sun lamp revealed just how red Minkowski's face was right now, Lovelace would suspect it had more to do with embarrassment than very-much-still-latent arousal.

"Fine! Fine. It's alright, Captain, we've got an..." Minkowski realized her mistake mid-sentence, but couldn't think of a way to rephrase herself by the time she was framing the word "...understanding," and instead just tried not to cringe too hard at the implications of her own words. She saw Lovelace wince in sympathy as she came closer.

"You... need a hand there?"

"Yeah, that would be n _-ice_ ," Minkowski's voice rose to a squeak on the last syllable, drowning out the sardonic inflection. The vine still wrapped around her leg had moved again, creeping past the ticklish part of her inner thigh. Tossing Minkowski a somewhat forced smirk, Lovelace reached out for the vine still wrapped around her wrist on her mostly-free side and tugged.

The plant monster let out another low rumbling noise and Lovelace flinched hard. Minkowski shot a glare at the giant eyeball lurking in the corner, noticing how Lovelace froze when she followed her gaze and saw it too, but the plant monster offered no further dissent. Still, Lovelace pulled herself in closer before she got back to untangling her, sacrificing respectable arms-length distance in favor of getting the job done quickly, while both she and Minkowski pointedly avoided eye contact.

The vine around Minkowski's wrist came away easily, but the ones bound around her chest were sullenly firm. Lovelace was quiet - she was always quiet when she was focused. Not the first time Lovelace had demonstrated she could be perfectly professional under awkward circumstances, but Minkowski could think of few times when it was more appreciated. That made it easy to fix your eyes on the far wall and pretend she was just fixing a difficult section of wiring, and not trying to avoid sticking her hands under your shirt.

No, the main issue (aside from Lovelace's cool fingertips brushing against the heated skin of her torso) was the vine making its way back up Minkowski's leg. It was prodding at her now, the serpentine length brushing against her inner lips before sliding back inside of her, almost teasing. Minkowski dug her teeth into the inside of her cheek to keep from whimpering again, but couldn't hold back the hitch in her breath or the shudder in her core. Lovelace, for her part, kept her attention on the latticework of vines stubbornly keeping Minkowski in place, but she caught Lovelace glancing up at the noise. They both looked away quickly, before either of them had to admit to eye contact.

Maybe it was the way Lovelace's cheeks seemed to gain a dark flush, or the way she bit her lip when Minkowski couldn't keep her breathing from stuttering out of rhythm. But her hands were very focused on the task at hand while her eyes seemed to stare right past them, and the more she and Minkowski played their game of glancing coyly at one another and then away again, the louder the voice in her head became. _"You know, Captain, maybe that's actually not the kind of 'hand' I need right now."_

_I mean, we're all probably doomed anyway, how far do you want to take my little 'to hell with it' streak?_

The tentacle slowly penetrating her wriggled, and Minkowski fixed her eyes forward and focused on keeping very still and very, very quiet. Like the intrusive mental image suddenly bubbling up in her mind’s eye -- _(Lovelace’s fingers teasing her swollen clit through her underwear while this one stubborn vine gave her a thorough,_ proper _fucking, all while Minkowski was still very tangled up and unable to do much but cling onto Lovelace and hide her face in her shoulder--)_ \--was a large and _highly aggressive_ predator animal, that would, _conveniently_ , totally ignore her as long as she stayed completely still.

...God, her fifth anniversary was less than three weeks ago. What the hell was wrong with her?

Finally, sort of like unlacing a set of shoelaces, Lovelace was able to loosen the stubborn vines up enough to take Minkowski by the hand and pull her free with one hard backwards shove off the floor. The ridged vine slid free of her with a soft gasp that she hoped Lovelace didn't think much of, the momentum pulling them flush against one another. Minkowski felt Lovelace wrap her other arm around her, probably to keep her from being snatched back. She took a chance and looked at Lovelace's face in spite of herself, relieved to see the Captain was too preoccupied giving the plant monster her "don't even think about trying anything" glare. 

But then Lovelace noticed her looking, and the glare dropped away. For a second, Minkowski could see concern there, before the look in her eyes turned to bashfulness, and then carefully practiced neutrality. They both averted their eyes again. 

Lovelace’s warmth was soaking into her bare shoulders - she was one of those people who ran hot, like a natural human furnace, and the heat of her combined with Minkowski's own hazy flush made her feel almost feverish. And despite all her attempts to ignore it, she remained keenly aware that there was no way Lovelace wouldn't be able to feel her peaked nipples through her shirt.

That was a thought they were probably both trying to put out of their minds as Lovelace released her mid-drift, keeping ahold of her wrist as she half-dragged them out of the plant monster's lair. Minkowski only just remembered to tell her "wait, hold up," so she could grab the kit she'd brought with her before it ended up marooned in this far-off corner of the _Hephaestus_.

She could _feel_ Lovelace fidgeting without even having to look at her as she picked up the night-vision goggles and started shouldering the O2 tank. Minkowski did her best to ignore it, as well as the unreleased tension in her own body. Leaving emergency gear in obscure hiding spots around the station… now there was a practical, _thoroughly non-erotic_ idea she could focus on…

But then, like Minkowski dreaded she would, Lovelace finally figured out what she thought she ought to say. It came out just as awkwardly as Minkowski had feared.

"So... when the two astrophysicists on my first crew kind of... hooked up- like, Fourier and Hui never came out and _said_ they were an item, but we all kinda knew-"

 _"Captain,"_ Minkowski groaned. _Please. I would rather be thrown out an airlock than have this conversation…_

No such luck. Lovelace’s train of thought boldly forged ahead. "Not that I think you and Audrey II have any kind of spark, or anything-" she added hastily, putting up her hands in supplication when Minkowski shot her a red-faced glare. "All I'm saying is... everybody on this ship is an adult, so my policy has always been that I don't care who or what anyone does with their free time as long as they get their jobs done."

The awkward silence returned. As much as they could've called the situation sufficiently defused there, Minkowski felt compelled to say something in her own defense, lest she leave the Captain thinking she made botanical intercourse a habit. "I... wasn't expecting things to, uh. Escalate. to that point. Not that it wasn't-"

Lovelace quirked an eyebrow at her struggle to find the right words. "...all above board?" she supplied, half a question.

"...Yeah, it was all above board. And definitely not something I'm planning on doing again," Minkowski added, maybe a little too quickly.

"Look, you do you, Minkowski. I for one am not about to breathe a word of this to anyone."

Minkowski gave her best effort at an appreciative smile as she finished shouldering her gear. "Thanks, Captain."

"Yeah, well… I don't want to have to try explaining any of this to the others any more than you do," Lovelace mumbled, her eyes fixed on the most distant corner of the corridor. "...If it's even possible to want it less than you, I mean. I don't think I've ever seen you so red."

"Well, take a picture, it'll last longer."

Lovelace said something like, “with your permission, I'd be happy to." It was mostly to herself, in that tone of voice that could almost sound like she was flirting, even though it always turned out to be a joke if you pressed her about it. Minkowski had a fleeting thought about doing just that and asking about what she really meant by all the charged comments - about how she was surviving this lonely place (thought, traitorously, about her up-close warmth and cool fingertips against soft skin) - but didn't have time to think too long, because when she looked back, she noticed what Lovelace hadn't - a snaking plant tentacle creeping up behind them.

Minkowski was just taking a breath to warn her when the whole thing went berserk.

The next few seconds unspooled in slow motion. Lovelace saw Minkowski's eyes go wide and followed them to the vine that'd just grabbed her foot. Minkowski grabbed Lovelace by the arm right when the plant monster yanked her in the opposite direction, the sudden jolt making her drop her equipment. The motion felt... playful, like when you went swimming and got goosed by a friend from underwater, but coming from a creature the size of a car. Clearly, Lovelace didn't see it that way, and Minkowski caught sight of something metal and glinting in her hand. Then everything became a tangled blur of foliage, station walls, and the two of them being thrown ass-over-teakettle through the frictionless air.

Somewhere in the chaos, Minkowski heard the sound of a knife blade hitting plant matter, a low, rumbling shriek from the plant monster, and the wooshing sound of those shootable spikes whizzing past her ears. They made a resonating _thunk_ as they embedded themselves in the metal wall, punctuated by - Minkowski twisted frantically to try and orient herself again when she heard it - a sharp gasp from Captain Lovelace.  
  
She caught sight of a vine that was nearly as thick around as her leg, and that now sported a long gouge slashed into its side. One of the armory’s tactical knives drifting through the air nearby (of course. Who else but Minkowski would think she had any business going into the plant monster's lair unarmed?). She found Lovelace pinned to one of the walls, her eyes wide and wild, her right arm held out and tacked up by several spikes that'd gone through her jumpsuit's sleeve - or at least, Minkowski prayed it was only her sleeve. She was surrounded by more of the plant monster's appendages, all of them large, thorny, and all rearing up in positions only Minkowski recognized as defensive.

Without a single second thought, Minkowski threw herself between the Captain and the plant monster's coiling tentacles, shouting at it. "HEY! We had an agreement, remember?!"

Her momentum sent her drifting backwards towards the wall until Lovelace grabbed her with her free hand, latching onto the strap of her tank top. Minkowski could hear her hard breathing in her ear, heavy from adrenaline and panic. Right - this was the first time Lovelace's would've seen the infamous _Hephaestus_ plant monster's in its full glory, or seen it doing anything more aggressive than scurry around the ventilation system. The way its self-made forest seemed to bristle all around them, like the whole room was some kind of giant, horrible mouth, would've scared the hell out of anyone who hadn't had to deal with it before. And that was without it showing off its _actual_ toothy maw.

Even Minkowski was relieved when the tentacles did, in fact, pause at the reminder of their truce.

"You startled Lovelace, and she reacted," Minkowski continued, her arms spread wide to shield her crewmate, focusing on keeping herself measured and steady - the better to reassure all three of them. "Who else in their right mind except me would come up here both uninvited _and_ unarmed?"

A growl came from somewhere near the big staring eye. Beneath it, some of the mass peeled back from the long spines of its teeth. Minkowski stood her ground, keenly aware of Lovelace digging her fingernails into her shoulder.

"And besides, the only reason she's here in the first place is because I was away longer than I was expecting. She came after me because she was _worried_ , which, correct me if I'm wrong? Is the same reason you invited me up here in the first place."

A slow rustle came from the leaves and vines around them, followed by a reluctant hiss - another one of those sounds that seemed far too animal to from something that was supposed to be all vegetable. But after a long moment, the plant monster seemed to agree with her reasoning, and the threatening tendrils relaxed and retreated back into the lair's carpet of foliage.

Minkowski let out a small sigh of relief before turning to see to Captain Lovelace. She had already decided not to chastise her for the knife – bringing it _had_ been the sensible thing to do, and more than that, it was the Lovelace thing to do.

"...can... that thing _actually_ understand you?" Lovelace asked, as Minkowski set about examining the spikes that pinned her to the wall - luck had actually been on their side for once. They had, in fact, only gone through her sleeve.

"Apparently," Minkowski replied. One of the spikes had landed near Lovelace's wrist. Another, closer to her armpit, had gone nearly all the way into the wall. She winced at the thought of what would've happened if either had hit just inches in a different direction... "It's not the best at conversation, but it is a good listener... when you really need it to be. Are you okay, Captain?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. The jumpsuit's gonna need a patch job, but the worst any of those crazy bullet-thorn did was graze,” Lovelace said, flexing her left arm to demonstrate. The fabric of her borrowed flight suit creaked in protest, threatening to tear. Torn Fabric could be repaired, of course, though the materials for doing so were precious at the moment. Still. Minkowski take a whole closet full of torn-up uniforms over another brush with death-by-impalement any day, no contest.

She glanced Lovelace over again at the mention of the spikes grazing her. The two by her arm hadn't visibly drawn any blood... "Did it hit you? Where?"

Lovelace brushed against Minkowski’s leg with her right knee. "Gee, wanna take a wild guess?"

Minkowski looked down, catching a glimpse of torn fabric and droplets of red beading off Lovelace's right inner thigh. Her first instinct was to crouch and inspect the wound – and it wasn't until she was level with the cut that she realized that it was just inches below Lovelace's groin.

"...ah. I see," she said with forced flatness, stamping down on the warmth flushing back into more than just her face.

"And unless you wanna get _real_ up close and personal? The fastest way out of this is just for me to shimmy out of the jumpsuit," Lovelace went on airily, as though she was choosing to be oblivious to the fact that Minkowski's face was between her legs. The torn edges of the fabric obscured the wound itself and kept Minkowski from getting an idea of how severe it really was. The blood wasn't spreading fast enough for Lovelace to be in any immediate danger… but then again, there were also a lot things she rather deal with than, say, an impatient crewmate who kept insisting her injuries “weren’t that bad”, then over-exerted herself and tore her stitches twice in a week.

"Is it okay if I just-" Minkowski asked, glancing up at Lovelace, one hand already extended before she had thought to look up and ask permission. Another moment of eye contact had them bouncing skittishly off one another again, and she lost her nerve. "...never mind. Do you need help getting loose?"

"Nah, I'm fine," Lovelace said, bracing herself against the wall and going for her jumpsuit's zipper with her free hand. "Trust me, I've read enough raunchy Star Trek fan fiction to know where this is going."

Minkowski recoiled, the blush returning to her cheeks with a vengeance. _"Captain."_

She was expecting her to laugh or push her sarcasm further, because it wasn't like Lovelace was serious or anything. She was just laughing her way through this entire light-years-beyond-embarrassing situation (and really, the whole thing _was_ pretty absurd). But instead, Lovelace went quiet.

"...sorry," Lovelace finally said, her eyes fixing somewhere on the far wall. Even this far from the sunlamp's glow, Minkowski could see her face was also a few shades darker. "This is just a, uh… a weird day. For both of us, I mean."

Her free hand dropped back to her side. Lovelace fidgeted, but didn't move to get free again.

"...and look, if you're really _that_ worried about me, go ahead. Seriously, what happens in the plant monster cave, stays in the plant monster cave," Lovelace added, twitching her uninjured leg out to the side to allow Minkowski more room to maneuver. "It's fine. Really. Go on, make sure I'm not gonna bleed to death or anything."

Minkowski pretended to not see Lovelace bite her lip as she came in close again, brushing the torn fabric of the jumpsuit aside to finally take a proper look. Lovelace went very still when Minkowski touched her. An almost-imperceptible tremor ran through the muscles of her inner thigh as Minkowski wiped some of the oozing blood away, running her thumb across bare skin. She told herself it was just a reflex as she looked at the cut - it was a long scratch, but it was very much just a scratch, shallow and unlikely to cause problems if properly seen to.

She found herself pressing the flat of her palm across the length of the wound to keep pressure on it. Just until the bleeding had stopped, she reasoned, aware of the warmth radiating off of Lovelace's body as well as her own. Again, the expected Lovelace witticisms never came, leaving them both in silence, hyper-aware of their own breathing, their own heartbeats, and the simple point of physical contact between them. Even the usual noises of the station - because silence on the _Hephaestus_ was never actually silent - somehow felt muffled.

Minkowski could feel the familiar tension in her lower belly tightening again, and with it the voice inside her persistently proposing that, surely, Lovelace must feel the ache of isolation just as much as she did, if not more. She must know the feeling, like you were drifting off into the void without a tether. She must know that it could kill you, just like a slow-acting poison. And even if (and every day, it felt like less and less of an "if") they were both going to die here, there was something they could do to help each other survive it.

And if Minkowski was reading things right (and god help her if she wasn't), it wasn't like Lovelace didn't seem... _receptive_ to the idea.

It wouldn't fix things. It wouldn't give them a way home. It wouldn't bring back Eiffel, or anyone else Lovelace had lost to this nightmare, but it might make living with it all just a little bit more bearable. And maybe, dared she venture the thought, it might even be _fun._

Hell. Maybe there really was something wrong with her.

But she could deal with those consequences if and when they survived this place.

"...Captain?"

Minkowski didn't look up at her when she spoke, or even take her eyes off the section of wall in-between Lovelace's legs, but she still heard Lovelace wet her lips before she replied. "Yeah...?"

"...you know better than I do what it's like. Being up here as long as you have, I mean. And sometimes, even more than the responsibility, the grief, the _everything_..." Minkowski had to pause to collect herself. When she continued, she had to force herself to a volume above a whisper, "what gets to you is... the loneliness. You know, when you're alone at the end of the day, and you just... want a hug so badly that it actually hurts?"

"Yeah... I get it. Honestly, I think all of us were starting to get just a little worried about you."

"Well, so was our botanical friend here, so make of that what you will. And, y'know... it was just playing with my hair at first. And it'd just been that long since I'd had anything like that, from anyone. Then it kept poking around to find other ways to cheer me up, and things just kind of... well. Escalated from there. Something gives you that release, and it takes some of the edge off things."

"I get it," Lovelace said. Minkowski bit her lip as she waited for her next words, focusing on keeping herself steady and still, one hand on Lovelace's hip and the other on her inner thigh. "...can't say I ever got it in my head to deal with it this way, but... look, I already said, it's none of my business what you get up to with the plant monster."

Now Minkowski did shoot her a look. "Lovelace, I literally have my face between your legs right now. Aren't _you_ the one who supposedly knew where this was headed?"

"Oh?"

Lovelace’s expression was coy, but it masked very real puzzlement. Then the roundabout proposition caught up with her and her eyebrows rose toward her hairline. _"...Oh."_

"If you're okay with it, that is," Minkowski added quickly. "A little _quid pro quo._ I mean, you did kind of interrupt before I was..." again, she had to wince at her own unconsidered phrasing. _"...finished."_

"…yeah, sorry about that."

It was like she was apologizing for walking in on Minkowski in the shower and forgetting to knock. They both broke off into snickers, and as they laughed off the awkward tension, Minkowski found herself settled in her spot between Lovelace's legs, gazing up at her, letting the sincerity of the offer sink in.

"I mean it, Captain. I do want to give that to you."

Her fingertips ghosted along the exposed soft skin. Even with the blood drying tacky on her palm, there was something exhilarating in just being able to touch another person, yet alone this intimately.

Lovelace's eyelids flickered at her touch, like she was briefly lost in both sensation and thought in spite of herself. When she said, "do you now?" her voice had dropped to one of its huskier tones, like she was daring Minkowski forward, or maybe doubted how far she'd be willing to go. A come-on, or a challenge, or both.

Either way, Minkowski chose to take it as an encouragement. Hey, she'd already come this far, right?

Holding the Captain's gaze, Minkowski brought her hand up, deftly feeling along the juncture between Lovelace’s legs, making a slow circle through the layers of fabric. She hid a smirk at the full-body shudder she got in response - at least she wasn't the only one ready to come apart at the seams.

Minkowski paused to raise herself back to Lovelace's eye level and could've sworn she caught a faint whine when she did. Lovelace had let her eyes fall shut as they came face to face, her cheeks dark, catching her lower lip between her teeth when Minkowski started slowly stroking her again, her hips twitching into her touch when her seeking fingertips hit home.

"This okay?" Minkowski asked softly, slowing down to let Lovelace get her bearings, knowing how overwhelmed she herself had been after being touched for the first time in so long. Her eyes peeked open at the question, her pupils already blown wide - or maybe they had already been that way for a while, who could say.

"...yeah. Yeah, it's okay," Lovelace exhaled, before putting her own self-assured smile back on. "…if you think you can handle me."

Minkowski rolled her eyes, but fondly. "It's not like this would be my first rodeo."

"Oh? So, the Commander does have a wild side?"

"Literally the day you turned up, I was just coming down from a two-week-long plant monster-hunting mania. Just because I look like a stick in the mud next to _you..._ " Minkowski pointed out, still holding Lovelace securely by the hip with her left hand, using her right to tug Lovelace's jumpsuit zipper downwards.

Lovelace took a slow breath in, which did not escape Minkowski's notice. Was she arching her body towards her, or was that just her imagination? "So that's what turns you on,” Lovelace said, “Dangerous outer space mysteries. Duly noted."

The only witty retorts about her actual turn-ons that came to mind involved either fancy rope harnesses, or that one awful guilty-pleasure BDSM novel. Both would've been way too revealing for her liking. So fine, Lovelace could have that one for now. Minkowski settled on, "oh, shut up and help me strip you."

"Is that an order?"

Emboldened by how quickly she'd started to come apart at her touch, Minkowski suddenly had the bright idea to slide a hand into Lovelace's unzipped jumpsuit and underneath her underwear. Lovelace flinched in surprise - for a moment Minkowski feared she'd gone too far, too fast - but then Lovelace had thrown her unpinned arm around Minkowski's shoulders to keep her from pulling away.

Her fingers still, Minkowski drew in close and said into the Captain's ear, "I can make it an order if it needs to be."

Lovelace's breath came out in a shaky sigh and a quiet, "…aye, aye, sir," before she took a minute to work her arms free of their sleeves, leaving Lovelace in her own undershirt as she pinned Minkowski against herself. She was rewarded with Minkowski’s digits gliding through her already-slick folds, exploring. Minkowski could feel herself also throb in anticipation as Lovelace’s juices practically dripped from the pads of her fingers.

"This wet already, Captain?"

"What can I say," Lovelace said, still holding together but shaky around the edges, "I'm gonna be thinking about you tied up when I'm alone for a long, long time. Especially now that I know those noises I heard were you _enjoying_ yourself."

Minkowski huffed, ducking her face into Lovelace's shoulder as waves of heat flashed through her body, embarrassment and arousal in nearly equal measure. Lovelace laughed, but quickly found her self-satisfied chuckle cut off by Minkowski sliding her fingers inside of her.

Minkowski smirked to herself against Lovelace's warm skin, turning her focus from banter to how Lovelace’s body responded to her touch, slowly dragging her digits in and out of her, teasing with the tips while pressing her thumb into her clit, which had Lovelace bucking against her, as much as she could with one leg still pinned to the wall.  
  
"Oh, _come on_ ," Lovelace panted near Minkowski's ear, when Minkowski paused to just let Lovelace try to fuck herself on her fingers. _"Minkowski..."_

"Yes?" she answered, sweetly, pulling her index finger out to run it around Lovelace's entrance. "What was that, Captain?"  
  
Lovelace writhed again in an effort to free herself, having more leverage with the wall to push against. Minkowski kept her as pinned as she could when she was free-floating, thrusting her fingers in and out of her again and crooking them _just_ so until she got a gasp out of Lovelace.

"...please, Commander?" Lovelace grumbled, gently headbutting Minkowski's shoulder with her forehead.  
  
Minkowski gave her inner walls another slow stroke, finding the spot that made Lovelace clench around her and working up to a slow rhythm. "Please, what?"

The consistent thrusting earned her a soft little whimper. Lovelace was quick to match her movements, rolling her hips against Minkowski's hand, her own hands falling from the back of Minkowski's undershirt and grabbing her by the ass, moving their bodies together. "God, please just don't _stop._ "

Minkowski let herself fall into Lovelace's rhythm, busy working her up with her fingers inside her and Lovelace grinding her clit against the heel of her palm, her face still hidden in her shoulder. Her breath came in soft pants, drawn out into the occasional whine and shaky little "oh, _fuck,_ " when all the moving parts came together just right - Minkowski was a little surprised Lovelace was so quiet, actually, even though those increasingly desperate little noises were practically all she cared to hear.

Ever the perfectionist, she found herself adjusting intuitively as she steadily picked up the pace, noticing angles and timing so she could thrust her fingers into the hot point of nerves deep inside of Lovelace _right_ when she was grinding her hips against her hand, finding resistance in the bones of her wrist. She wouldn't have thought Lovelace would be the type to make the helpless little noise that she did, her clenched hands squeezing Minkowski's backside and ramming their hips together in a wordless plea for her to move faster. But she fell back into Minkowski's steady beat quickly enough. Her own body was practically throbbing with need, still untouched, but - patience. Lovelace coming undone in her arms was something she wanted to draw out, both out of personal pride and as a kind of reward for the Captain herself, for letting herself actually be taken care of for once.

That, and either of them could only last so long at the moment. Under Minkowski's steady crescendo, Lovelace gradually tipped and crashed over that edge. She let out a muffled cry, failing to stifle it by biting her lip, the noise morphing into a shuddering moan of "fuck, _fuck,_ don't stop-"

She seemed determined to ride Minkowski's hand through her climax, and Minkowski was happy to oblige her, honestly, even though Lovelace had suddenly locked her arms around her again so she couldn't have pulled away even if she wanted to. So, she was quite content to keep fucking her through her orgasm, thrusting her fingers into the brazen Captain’s oversensitive g-spot and drawing out more little whimpers and shudders.

Finally, when the aftershocks must've been starting to ebb, Minkowski slowed to a halt. "…you okay, Captain?"

"Yeah," Lovelace said, catching her breath, her body still twitching against her to try and find friction. "God, I'm serious... please don't stop?" You could've almost called it pleading. It made sharp warmth flutter in Minkowski's stomach, just like every other almost-helpless noise she’d made. "I'll make it up to you, scout's honor."

Well, she had asked nicely, and as far as Minkowski was concerned, this was a nice change of pace for them both. So, she braced a foot against a wall, pulling Lovelace free of the outer layer of her clothing, and before Lovelace had any time to react, Minkowski had slipped out of her grasp and down to the zero-g equivalent of on her knees, hooking her thumbs under Lovelace's underwear and pulling them down as she went.

"Minkowski, what're you- _oh, fuck-_ "

Minkowski didn't really give herself time to think either, just spread Lovelace's folds out with her still-slick fingers before diving in with her tongue. Arousal and intuition took over from there, Lovelace doing an excellent job of provoking the former with her poorly muffled cries of pleasure as Minkowski played with her inner lips, flicking her tongue along their edges and teasing them into her mouth like she was locked in a passionate kiss. They were drifting now - Minkowski dimly registered something leafy brushing against the back of her shoulders, the warmth from the sun lamp becoming more pronounced - but a vine wrapped around her ankle to anchor them before it became a concern, leaving Minkowski free to focus on whatever she had just done that made Lovelace tangle a hand into her hair. By the time she'd made Lovelace cum a second time, Lovelace had given up trying to stifle herself.

The third time was easy enough to coax out of her. Minkowski had rolled her tongue against Lovelace's clit before she'd had a chance to come down, and Lovelace had suddenly slammed her hips against her, the hand in her hair gripping tight. Message clearly sent, Minkowski zeroed in on the nub of overstimulated nerves, sucking it gently between her front teeth until Lovelace's thighs were trembling on either side of her head. Somewhere along the way, Lovelace had started mumbling a half-conscious mantra of encouragement between ragged breaths, which choked off into a silent scream when Minkowski slid two fingers inside her again, humming to herself at the satisfaction of a job well done.

She was actually pretty short of breath herself, half-lost in a warm haze of arousal and Lovelace's scent, her taste, when Lovelace finally tugged her face away from her groin. They came apart, Lovelace catching her breath as she came down from her high, giving Minkowski to take a moment and appreciate her handiwork. Captain Lovelace, naked from the waist down, face flushed dark, her eyes blown out, her bitten lips slightly parted and all of her carefully held tension momentarily undone. Not a bad look for her, not a bad look at all...

They held half-lidded gazes for a moment, Minkowski's own need trying to push her brain into forming words again, but Lovelace got there first. "Oh yeah, definitely not your first rodeo," she said, a half-dreamy, satisfied smile spreading across her face.

"Told you so."

"God... no offense but I did not expect you to be so good at eating pussy like that. You're just full of surprises today, huh?"

Minkowski wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, letting out a small, self-conscious giggle even as she smiled proudly to herself. "That's your own fault for assuming being disciplined is the same thing as being totally abstinent. Although it has... been awhile since I've had the chance to, you know. 'Practice my technique'."

"Hey, same." Lovelace offered her a hand for Minkowski to pull herself up and get them both oriented again, the two of them having floated off in god-only-knew how many directions before the plant monster had helpfully anchored her to the floor. No sooner were they both level with each other again, however, when Lovelace suddenly pulled herself in close again, her voice dropping to a dark whisper in Minkowski's ear, "now how many times can I get _you_ to cum before you have to tap out?"

A shiver ran down Minkowski's spine, though she succeeded at keeping her voice level as she hissed back, "do your worst," while Lovelace mouthed her way down the shell of her ear, lips ghosting along her neck.

Minkowski felt Lovelace smile against her skin as she slid her hands up her sides, under her shirt, before she hit uneven flesh on Minkowski's left hip and paused.

Lovelace glanced down at the burn scar that was peeking above Minkowski's jump suit, a curious eyebrow rising. "Wow. What, uh..."

"Oh, that? It was an... accident," Minkowski said, airily dismissing the flash of concern Lovelace gave her when she peeked closer and saw the extent of the scar tissue, "you know, just a little atmospheric combustion a few months back, nothing to worry about."

Really, it was the result of accidental skin contact with a metal prop saber during an atmospheric combustion-slash-hull breech, resulting in a colorful blend of both burn and frostbite damage, but going into further detail would've derailed things.

"Right..." Lovelace half-chuckled, though she didn't seem fully convinced. It really wasn’t a big deal - in Minkowski’s mind, the talent show incident felt like a lifetime ago, but… it hadn't even been a full year, now that she thought about it. The scarring certainly attested to that, a jarring reminder of _where_ exactly they were. 

Lovelace rested her hands on Minkowski's stomach, slow to resume their journey upwards. On an impulse, Minkowski stepped in, taking her hands and riding up the fabric of her shirt before placing them squarely on her breasts.

Lovelace made a soft noise as Minkowski's hardened nipples brushed against her palms. Minkowski could sympathize with the feeling Lovelace was probably having right now, like her common sense had turned back on for a minute to ask her just what the hell she thought she was _doing,_ insisting she must have lost her mind - there was no way what was unfolding in front of her could actually be happening otherwise.

Minkowski released her grip, her own hands hovering weightlessly over Lovelace's wrists, half-expecting her to call the whole thing off - and, realistically, Minkowski knew all the reasons she ought to, even if they were still being shouted down by her body's wants - but then you could see the moment Lovelace also decided "to hell with it", squeezing the supple flesh in her hands and breaking into a shyly wolfish grin when Minkowski sighed in pleasure.

"So," Lovelace kept her eyes on Minkowski's chest as she rolled her nipples around with her thumbs, her fingers brushing along the indents in her skin where the plant monster had been squeezing her, "you got a thing for being tied up?"

Minkowski thought of the vine around her ankle. "It depends, I've got my tastes. What were you thinking?"

"…I'm thinking you've got freckles on your tits, and it's cute?"

"C'mon, Captain, be serious about this."

"Okay, fine..." Lovelace pulled herself in close again, her voice conspiratorial this time, "I'm thinking, if you're into handcuffs and harnesses, and our friend from the greenhouse is in your good books where that's concerned..."

Minkowski felt her face getting hot again as she caught Lovelace's meaning, though this time, it was more out of an apprehensive excitement. "...and you're okay with that?"

Lovelace's eyes flicked to the giant eyeball in the corner of all the foliage. "I mean... if you trust this thing, then yeah. You know it better than I do."

"...it's been cooperative today so far, so sure. Let’s give this a shot."

Lovelace smiled, apprehension easing away and giving in to a sparkle of mischief in her eyes - the first time in a long time Minkowski could recall seeing it - as she leaned into kiss her. And even in the easy atmosphere they'd managed to create, despite having thrown the standard of first and all subsequent bases out the window from the word go, _that_ was suddenly too much.

Minkowski drew back, like it was a reflex, only stopping to think about why she’d done it when Lovelace also froze. Her eyes were wide for just a moment, before she blinked, and the look of surprise vanished behind her calm mask again. The concern stayed, but not the brief flash of hurt, and Minkowski hated herself just a little bit for that alone. 

"Sorry," Minkowski said quickly, explaining things as much to herself as she was to Lovelace, "...sorry, you're fine. That's just... I guess that _is_ a line I have."

She was braced for Lovelace to pry, or to make some barbed remark about why, exactly, she'd be so opposed to kissing someone else when she clearly had no problem fucking them. But instead, she just nodded and said, "Gotcha. ...so, is that, uh... no lip contact at all, or just on the mouth?"

"Oh." The simplicity of the reply threw Minkowski for a brief loop of her own, as did... well, this whole side of Lovelace. For once she didn't seem like she was about to breathe fire if you pushed her the wrong way. "No, you're okay, the rest of what you were doing is f- _ine-_ "

Again, her words were choked off into a squeak as their little moment of intimacy passed and Lovelace practically lunged to place rough kisses on her neck, latching onto a point just below her ear and working around to the tender skin of her throat. It was like the full-contact version of what she'd been doing minutes before, sucking and nibbling with just the suggestion of teeth, bringing the ticklish sensation to sudden, sharp points. Minkowski found herself tilting her head back to expose herself further, Lovelace cupping her breasts and drawing gentle circles with her thumbs as though to reassure her she was in safe hands.

Her breath caught at a sudden, particularly hard playful nip. Minkowski winced and hissed warning of "don't leave marks!" - even though Lovelace hadn't bitten down anywhere near hard enough for that. Lovelace let out a breathy chuckle, further feeding the excited heat fluttering in Minkowski's stomach, even more so than when Lovelace paused to pull her tank top off the over her head to trace an uninterrupted trail from her collarbone to her breasts.

"Good god," Minkowski mumbled, drawing a breath in between her teeth when Lovelace gave her nipples a firm pinch before letting her hands wander further downwards, shoving her jumpsuit down out of the way before following her trailing fingers with open-mouthed kisses all the way down her belly. She gave Minkowski a mischievous little smile, looking up at her through her eyelashes, before taking her hands and pulling her down with a motion almost like she was shaking out a towel or something, sending Minkowski drifting back into the waiting vines of the plant monster, which were quick to tangle around her again.

Minkowski bit her lip as Lovelace followed her down and settled between her legs. With her arms being pulled over her head by vines again, they were basically back at the beginning of this whole spiral of events, except now Minkowski was completely exposed.

Lovelace must've seen the vulnerability on her face - it wasn't like you didn't get kind of used to the lack of privacy up here, but this did feel... different.

"You okay, Minkowski?" she asked, her hands hovering close to her hips but not making contact just yet.

Minkowski nodded, though she felt like it'd be days before the rising head-to-toe blush would fade away. "Yeah, 'm fine. Go on."

Maybe you just couldn't get around the intimacy of the thing, even if you tried. The vulnerability was just part of the equation. It wasn't totally unlike the other first sexual encounters she'd had, but with those you had the... atmosphere, that came along with someone she'd entrusted with herself and her feelings. And she trusted Lovelace with her life - tentatively, but she did. They'd gained that much, at least - and Lovelace had entrusted her with her own. Up here, you entrusted all your crewmates with your body, each to some extent, because you never knew who you might be counting on to save your life in an emergency, but this was... well, this was pretty out there. But somehow, not so much that Minkowski felt the need to stop, even if arousal wasn't the only thing making her heart race.

Okay, that, and the tentacle vine she suddenly felt creeping between her legs. Minkowski yelped and instinctively tried to draw in on herself again, failing due to both to her restraints and Captain Lovelace in the way. She saw Lovelace raise her eyebrows before she looked away, heat flashing through her face, and tried to force herself to relax. She felt Lovelace's hands, tentative, along the ridges of her hips, easing her out again, and let out a shuddering sigh.

"Just a little shy, huh," Lovelace murmured, trying to take on a sultry note and just barely missing the mark.

Minkowski nodded hastily, her eyes closing, brought up to the edge at just the thought of Lovelace, just this side of too breathless to keep her composure, watching her writhe underneath her as the tentacle slid inside her, spreading her open with even less resistance than last time. It wasn’t helped by Lovelace trailed her fingertips over her lower belly, tangling in the coarse, soaked curls between her legs.

Lovelace hummed absently to herself, exploring the pretty red-pink petals with all the deliberation the probing vine didn't have, as its textured ridges sank deeper into her. Lovelace was taking her turn with teasing her, or maybe just easing her into it. Either way, Minkowski didn't stop herself from letting out a shamelessly loud whimper, back arching and wordlessly trying to urge Lovelace to _get on with it._

In the absence of gravity, Lovelace held Minkowski back down with the hand still on her hip. "I take it that's a good sound," she said, sliding a finger inside her around the edge of one of the tentacle's ridges, drawing out another moan. "I kinda felt it was fair to take my time, y'know, after you treated me so nicely. Unless," She worked her finger in deeper alongside the wet, squirming vine, quirking of the digit to drag along Minkowski's inner walls that had her bucking underneath her again, "you don't want me to?

Minkowski caught her breath, and cracked an eye open, finding Lovelace's eyes. Where it was restraint or caution, she was seeing, she didn't really care at the moment - with sudden defiance, she hooked her free leg around Lovelace and hauled her as close to eye level as she could without being able to use her hands.

"Captain," she said, as level as she could, Lovelace re-balancing on top of her and putting the two of them practically nose-to-nose, "in case I wasn't clear, I want you to get me off right the hell now _,_ and don't stop until I say the word. Then, once I can remember how to think straight, we'll get out of here, come up with something to tell Hera, and never speak of this incident again. _Got it?_ "

This close up, in the light of the sun lamp, she could see Lovelace blushing. She took it in stride, though. "...yes sir, got it. …Finally got tired of being uptight, huh?"

Minkowski rolled her hips up again, "oh, shut up and fuck me already."

"Liiike this?" Lovelace's finger moved inside her again, drawing another gasped-out "ah-!" noise from Minkowski and putting the smirk back on the Captain's face. "Or- hang on, I have an idea."

Lovelace sat back on her heels again, withdrawing her finger with-- _whine-inducing_ slowness. Minkowski followed the sound with a shaky exhale, the feeling of being stuffed full ebbing as Lovelace teased the tentacle vine out of her (it twitched as if in protest, hitting the same spot she had found), and then, with just the tip left inside her, rammed it back in again.

Now that was more like it. Minkowski let her knees fall open, squirming weightlessly to try and move with Lovelace and her improvised toy. The vines tangled around her arms tightened gently, winding their way down to her chest again, as though keeping her from escaping, just enough tension on each limb to have her helpless against the mounting pressure.

Realistically speaking, she was already a goner. Didn't stand a damn chance, especially not with the sight of Lovelace, disheveled, panting lightly and biting her lower lip, and totally focused on fucking Minkowski with the plant monster's writhing appendage. Not when she was being held in place, letting her cohorts move her body how they pleased. And not after she'd been worked up _so close_ to the edge so many times over the past... 

Oh, who the hell even knew? She'd completely lost track of time. All Minkowski had some very vague sense that _Hera must be worried sick_ , before Lovelace slid a finger inside her again to press the vines ridges right into her g-spot on her next thrust and the rest of the world went away for a little while as finally, _finally_ , Minkowski came undone. And kept coming undone, because Lovelace was keeping her word on "don't stop until I say so" and didn't let up on ramming her with the tentacle vine. Her free hand found Minkowski's clit and pressed - at first gently, because that little extra stimulation on top of the hard, throbbing waves of climax made her cry out – but, as Lovelace was getting to discover, that was just her being too far gone to care about how loud she was being.

Pulsing orgasms wracked her body, coming and going with Minkowski hardly bothering to keep track of what was going on around her until Lovelace, at some point, relented, and they began to ebb. Minkowski panted, shuddering, eventually becoming aware of Lovelace holding her steady by the hips and trying to check in again. "Hey, Minkowski, eyes up- still alright?"

Minkowski caught a deep breath before answering, the faintest sting of tears prickling at the corner of her eyes. "I said don't stop 'til I say, right?" she said, though there wasn't any accusation to it. The muscles of her lower body were starting to hit that good kind of sore, the kind you got after a good workout, and a short break from the wild tension wasn't all that unwelcome. "Did you hear me say?"

"Nope, just thought I'd check."

With that, Lovelace leaned over her again, placing a kiss on the top of one vine-wrapped breast before working her way down to its sensitive peak. She was gentle at first, with soft breath and careful brushes of rough lips, but that quickly escalated hard sucking and the edges of teeth, like she was searching for Minkowski's limits when she started writhing underneath her again, arching against her. Minkowski let her head drop back, letting herself get lost in the feeling, and felt the wet brush stroke of Lovelace's tongue tracing down her stomach, playfully tonguing her navel like she was giving her a preview of what was coming, before Lovelace was between her legs again - and if Minkowski had played hard and fast when eating her out, then good _lord._

Minkowski's impression was that Lovelace probably had more recent experience with actually going down on someone, rather than replicating the experience of being gone down on. Wet, loose and sloppy had gotten the job done, sure, but Lovelace was like a heat-seeking missile by contrast.

"Christ," Minkowski gasped, when the tentacle vine was replaced by Lovelace working her way inside her with her tongue. Her heels hit the back of Lovelace's shoulders as she tried to grind her hips against her, the both of them working her in deeper. Honestly, if Minkowski had her way, she'd have liked to just- sit on her face, really, but the plant monster's restraints still resisted her when she pulled against him, keeping her shuddering and whining loudly as she tried to move with Lovelace and chase that overwhelming satisfaction again.

Again, Lovelace's fingers found her clit, rapidly pressing the overstimulated bundle of nerves until Minkowski was shivering over the brink again, so sharp it almost hurt, her breathless moan coming out sounding dangerously close to "C...Captain... _ah!_ "

While her whole body was still pulsing, Lovelace traded her fingers for her lips again, nipping and sucking and worrying the little bud with the tip of her tongue. Minkowski could feel more than hear a little half-hum, half-growl from the back of her throat when she heard her utterance, coaxing the one friendly vine back into her to keep her stuffed and leaving her hands free to grab Minkowski by the hips again and pull her into a rhythm in time with her movements.

The one uncontrolled vocalization trailed off into more rambling little utterances, a half-conscious decision to keep egging Lovelace on and a half-conscious mantra of _"captain, captain, capta-a, a-ah-!"_

She bit down hard on the end of the sound as the last, almost-painful orgasm crashed over her, a noise that would've probably turned into something like "Isabel" escaping as a high whine.

"Okay, okay, stop, that's enough-" she gasped, as the wave of pleasure crested over her and left her with the aftershocks, her breath coming in shuddering, fluttery gasps. Her whole body was still pulsing when Lovelace surfaced, her lips and chin spit-slick and her eyes warm and hazy.

Minkowski relaxed then, riding out the rest of the tide on the weightless air and drifting, drifting, resting on a cloud with sunlight soaking over her.

"Well?" came Lovelace's voice, floating from somewhere in the distance.

Minkowski looked up from her daze. "Huh?"

"Did you keep count?"

"…oh. No, I absolutely lost track. Good job."

Lovelace chuckled as she reached over to pull her free from the vines again. It took Minkowski a minute to coordinate her brain again, not wanting to break the spell just yet. Toss her a blanket and she'd probably have fallen asleep here.

She shook it off. She could relax later, and at the very least, she'd get a decent's night's sleep tonight. Her limbs took a moment to find traction again, helping Lovelace yank herself free before they went to retrieve their drifting clothing.

"You think the flight suit's salvageable?" Lovelace called from the wall where said article was still pinned up. "Or do I just find my underwear and take my chances?"

"Well, Hera's going to have questions, and without her we can't be sure where Hilbert's at..."

"He's seen me in worse." A bit of darkness crept into Lovelace's tone. "And it's not like I care about his opinions..." 

"Mmhm." Minkowski hauled her own flight suit back up her body before kicking away the vine around her ankle, too sleepy to start an argument about it. "I'll grab something sharp from my kit and we can cut it loose and patch it up later. I'd think more about what the hell we tell Hera."

She grabbed her shirt out of the air, sliding back into it before zipping her flight suit up properly, rubbing her arms a little despite herself to settle the needling goosebumps. Minkowski knew what it was she wanted, but even if Lovelace was the cuddling type, she sensed she'd be rebuffed. Lovelace had her walls back up again. This wasn't the time nor the place anyhow.

"Don't bother, I got it," Lovelace said. She grabbed her tactical knife from the patch of moss it'd drifted into and set to work excising the plant monster's pins. Minkowski glanced at the giant eyeball in the corner of the room, which was watching Lovelace warily, but the mutant space jungle seemed to be at ease.

"We'll just say the plant monster was also worried about how you've been holding together, invited you to its secret garden here, and you simply lost track of time while we were all hanging out and letting it play with our hair, or whatever totally PG-13 version of events you’d prefer to live with." Lovelace went on, pausing in her task to look back over her shoulder at Minkowski. "...what was that all about, anyway? Seriously, it’s not more bad news, is it?"

"No, nothing like that," Minkowski said quickly, now rounding up her emergency gear, filing away the note to herself about stashing bug-out bags somewhere for a later date. "…Honest. It was a... it was personal, everything was just kind of getting to me for a while. Don't worry about it, it won't happen again."

"Right, gotcha." 

As she found the harpoon, tangled in another vine cluster and thankfully relinquished without a fight (on the contrary, the plant monster seemed to be almost offering it up to her, like a sword to its rightful wielder), Minkowski heard the faint sounds of tearing threads, interspersed with lingering pauses. For the second time that day, she could feel Lovelace's eyes on her.

They rejoined each other at the lair's exit, Lovelace tying off her damaged sleeves around her waist. "You know, shit happens sometimes," she said, almost out of nowhere.

"Excuse me?"

"Shit happens sometimes," Lovelace repeated, as though they had been mid-conversation, "and sometimes the shit gets to you. You found a way and so you're dealing with it, but still, it happens sometimes. So don't beat yourself up when it does. You are only human."

Minkowski... didn't know what to say to that, exactly, so she just said, "I'll keep that in mind, thank you Captain. And... thanks for... the rest, too."

Lovelace had enough sense to not wink, but the way she said, "any time," made it feel like, in another time and place, she definitely would have. Then her tone dropped back to seriousness as she added, "Never speak of this again, right?"

"Right. Never again."

They headed back for charted territory, the still-inhabited portions of the station where some sense of decorum and social expectations still lingered, even this far from society at large. Maybe she'd call it an early night tonight, Minkowski thought, her inner thighs still aching pleasantly. And a very cold shower in the morning.

But right now, what she wanted more than anything was to fall asleep in the arms of someone she loved. Unfortunately, the best she could do up here was the comfortably oversized sweater she'd brought from home. She wore it to bed almost every night, both because it being large on her made her almost feel like she was being held, but mostly because she had borrowed it from her-

…Husband.

Right.

 _Never speak of this again_ , she repeated to herself. _What happens in the plant monster cave, stays in the plant monster cave._

It wasn't enough to convince her, because even if the only ones that would ever know were Lovelace and the plant monster, she would still know, and even if she shoved the knowledge of that fact away it didn't change the fact that it had happened. Even if she told herself she had a good reason to do it. _Shit just happens sometimes, right? Desperate times, desperate measures._

Deep breath in, deep breath out. Keep floating along after Lovelace, because you still have to tell Hera you're alright. You have to check in to make sure nothing went wrong while you were away. You have to deal with the here and now. Whatever way Minkowski diced it, she was still 7.8 light-years away from the one other person who had any business judging her for this, and if she ever wanted to see him again, she had to get through all this mess first.

She would deal with the consequences, if and when they survived this. 

**Author's Note:**

> While I highly doubt "making at least one audience member sit up and realize 'oh, so I'm like _gay_ -gay'" was on the minds of anyone involved in bringing these characters to life when they set out to make the show... uh, yeah. That happened. And in the astronomically-unlikely-but-hypothetically-possible event any of them ever read this... thanks? I... hope you enjoyed this almost-16k words of incredibly explicit content about your characters? And I'm gonna go spontaneously combust now.


End file.
